The Goblin Kings
by telldrak
Summary: We all know the story of the Labyrinth, of Jareth, the Goblin King, and of Sara's journey to save her brother. But, much as the labyrinth was far larger than what we saw of it, there is also more to the story than we know. The Goblin Kings explores what happened after-and before the events of The Labyrinth. The story of Jareth is explored, and the story of Toby begins.
1. You Remind Me of the Babe

The Goblin Kings

" _You have thirteen hours to solve my labyrinth"_

Legend and myth are often what is left after history has rolled a good story 'round in its mouths and minds for a few generations.

As the tales are told, bits and pieces get substituted, facts erode, and fancies are added on like little shiny baubles to fill in the spaces. Pretty soon, the story looks nothing like it started, but at its core, there's a pearl of truth that always remains.

This story is about a king, who lived in a castle which lay at the center of a city filled with all manner of ugly little goblins with bulging eyes, bulbous noses, crooked teeth, and hairy feet.

Though the city was itself quite sizable, having a twenty foot tall gate, complete with its own clockwork guard built right in - it became smaller as the labyrinth that surrounded it grew ever larger.

The king was quite paranoid about people getting to the castle at the center of the city at the center of the labyrinth; especially so about one person - A woman.

She was young and beautiful, with hair the color of burnished oak that fell over her shoulders in enviable lengths. Her eyes were a bright blue - He'd never forget them, they stared back at him whenever he closed his eyes, and every time he looked into the eyes of the baby, cradled in his arm.

She would come for him, the dance begun anew. Such were the ways of this place. She would fling herself at his labyrinth, striving to reclaim the baby, but she would never reach it in time. They never did.

New walls were added, new twists and turns, new paths and passages with hidden doors and turn-rounds, some of the walls even re-arranged themselves after they'd been passed through.

The woman was now coming upon a set of doors, one of which lead to yet another winding, endless corridor, and the other, a quick slide to one of the many dark oubliettes scattered throughout the labyrinth.

The king turned his wrist with a flick, and the crystal ball winked away obediently.

The baby sleeping in the crook of his arm stirred, but did not wake.

"Soon," the king cooed softly. "Soon, you will be mine."

The baby settled again.

"And soon, little Jareth, this will all be yours." 


	2. The Empty House

A young man trudged through overgrown grass and a maze-work of neglected hedges toward a tall house. It was clad with boards that had once been painted white, but were now shaded gray with dirt and dust, lines of creeping plants like cracks in the façade.

As he neared the steps leading up to the porch, beyond which, a familiar door stood waiting, he found himself re-living memories of years long passed in this house, before he and his sister had moved out. Their parents had remained in the house for some years, before his father had passed, and his mother had moved into a retirement home.

The house had meant to be passed on to one of the children, but he'd been so wrapped up in college, and his sister had her own home, where she was raising her own children.

The decision had been made to put the house on the market, which meant that the house would need some cleaning and fixing. This fell to him, and it was not something that he particularly relished the thought of.

He'd considered taking on the house, but it was in fact, far too large for just him, and being quite honest with himself, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to live in it. It was filled with all manner of memories and stories, some far stranger than others.

He began to think then, about the fantastic stories that his sister would tell him when he was very young. She'd told him of a goblin king named Jareth, who stole him away when he was a baby, and that she'd had to find her way through a perilous labyrinth in order to save him.

When he was little, he'd listen in rapt wonder, his believe in every detail firm and unflinching, never considering for even a moment that his sister would make up such things, but as he grew older, his belief had faded away, and he began to think of it as little more than a story that she'd dreamt up, inspiring by one of the many silly books she was always reading.

Unlocking the door, he entered the foyer. Dim light spilled in through the windows set beside the door, falling onto the floor, and beyond it, the stairs, leading up to where he and Sara's old bedrooms had been.

He tried the light switch, but it was useless, the power had not been turned back on yet, though he'd specifically told the power company when he'd be up to the house to begin work on it.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his mobile, and swiped through the screens until he found the flashlight app.

A bright light filled the stairwell ahead of him, the cobwebbed beams supporting the bannister casting long dark shadows like bars on the wall behind, the cobwebs throwing up murky shadows, like lumpy little creatures lurking in wait.

He began to climb the stairs, coming up to the landing and stopping short. Ahead of him lay several familiar doors, two to the right, and one to the left. The first bedroom to the right had been his; the one adjacent, his sister's, and the one to the left, his parent's old bedroom.

Standing there a moment, he found himself reminded of his sister's stories, one part echoing familiarly in this moment. She had at one point stood before two doors like this, forced to make a choice to continue toward the distant castle.

Four strange little heads with helmets peeked out from behind large, playing card like shields, one on top, and one on bottom to each, with hands and here and there, a lone foot akimbo, strangely located beside one of the heads, which didn't seem to pay it any mind.

"One of us always lies, and one of us always tells the truth!" One head exclaimed.

"He always lies" retorted another from in front of the other door.

"Ooh, what a lie!" responded the first.

She'd had to sort out which of the heads was telling the truth, and which was lying, made all the more difficult by the stipulation that she could only ask one of them a question.

In a display of logical prowess, she'd handily beaten the guards, and the pair to the right stepped aside to allow her to pass through the door behind.

Victoriously, she had stepped through, only to be swirled away down an awful shoot full of hands, which slowed and supported her, and then, came together to form faces, which asked her questions.

"Which way do you want to go?" They'd asked.

She chose down, for whatever reason. He'd always thought that it was silly to choose to go down simply because that was where her feet had been pointed.

He'd have chosen to go back up, to carry onward down the path toward the castle.

As though the story had chosen for him, he entered the bedroom to the right.

His old bedroom lay nearly just as he'd left it, though boxes had been piled up on the bed, and in corners, it was mostly the same as he'd seen it last.

He strode in, and over to the boxes piled on the bed. Some of them were marked. "T's books", "S. animals" – He split open the one marked S. Animals, and found that it some of his sister's formerly massive stuffed animal collection.

A distinguished looking fox peered out of the box, its whiskers slightly mashed, but otherwise, it retained a sense of haute. It almost seemed to smirk at him.

He closed the box, trying to recall the fox's name. Sir.. Duddymouse or something like that.

He rose from the bed, and walked out of the room, going to the next door. This had been his sister's room. He turned the knob, and the door swung wide, revealing the old four-poster bed, and empty shelves and cubbies lining the walls. All of their former inhabitants had been packed away into boxes, or taken by his sister, and given to her children.

He turned, leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Ahead, across the hall, lay the door to his parent's old room. This one, he hesitated to enter, though he could not sort out just why.

After a moment of staring blankly at the door, lost in memories of the strange things that his sister had claimed happened in there. He could picture it in his mind, the crib standing off to the right of the glass doors leading outside, in it, himself, a little baby at the time, crying and scared from the loud pounding of thunder and lightning outside.

Mom and dad had gone out, and his sister had been left to babysit, but her mood was little better than his own, and rather than understanding his screams as an appeal for comfort, she instead lost her patience, and had called the goblins to take him.

His own memory of this was nothing but imagined, based upon his sister's many tales of the fabled Labyrinth and its goblin king.

She'd told him of how after she'd said the ill-fated words, his screaming had suddenly stopped, and he was gone from the crib. She'd called for him, and as if in answer, the window crashed open, and a snowy owl had flown in, circling the room, before finally metamorphosing into the tall, austere figure of the goblin king himself.

He stood before the glass doors, moonlight lighting up the wild mop of blonde hair atop his head, the wind whipping about his clothes; his cape ruffled, and his eyes shone brightly.

His thin lips parted, the whites of his teeth flashing behind, the smile was as austere as he appeared, yet subtly predatory.

"Hello, Sara."

* * *

Shaking his head to clear it of the clouded memories of his sister's tales, he left her old room, and turned in the hallway to the last door, that of his parent's room.

Here was where it had all begun. Hesitantly, he turned the knob, and pushed the door open. It swung wide on its hinges, softly groaning in protest. Inside, things were much as he'd remembered them, though the bed now lay barren. Devoid of its sheets, the bed looked sad, the kingly headboard left to rule over a stripped mattress.

Most of the other contents of the room had been packed up or taken, some of it went to the retirement home with his step-mother, some of it sold off after his father had died. The rest was now scattered throughout the closet, attic, and a storage unit.

What remained was the bed, a lone dresser, and dirty looking sheer curtains that hung to either side of the double doors leading to the small balcony outside.

This was where the man had stood, having flown inside from the storm in the guise of a snowy owl, before transforming into the tall, slender form of the Goblin King himself, Jareth.

The crib had been here, just to the right of the doors, empty, as Jareth had explained to Sara that he'd taken the baby to his castle.

What were the words? He wondered. His sister had said something to set it all in motion, but what was it?

He cast about in his memory, trying to recall what she had said.

Failing to remember, he found himself feeling tired. There was so much to do to get the house ready to sell, so many things that had been left behind. Much of it would need to be sorted through, then the house would need to be cleaned and prepared.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and sighed. He was not feeling like he was up to handling this. He felt angry that it had fallen to him to take care of this mess, wished that he'd not had to even be here.

"I wish the goblins would just take me away." He muttered.

A sound came from the closet, it sounded like hushed laughter, but was gone before he could tell for sure. He rose from the bed, and moved toward the closet cautiously.

Reaching out, he grasped the handle, and turned it. As the door swung forward, he breathed a sigh of relief to find interior empty.

Another noise came from behind him, and something heavy hit him on the back of his head. As pain rolled through his skull, and the light faded, he heard a snickering at his ear, and calloused hands grasping his arms.


End file.
